I spend a lot of time out in the woods behind Clarkson. There’s a network of trails that is just great for running, hiking, biking, and skiing. Once, a couple years ago, I was caught off guard (and thoroughly creeped out) when I skiied past a tree with a white plastic mannequin head jammed up between to branches. More recently, on an early summer bike ride with Otis, we discovered that the head had made it’s way to the other side of the forest and, with supreme creepiness, tucked itself into this hole at the bottom of a tree. (Otis doesn’t seem too traumatized, but he does keep asking if we’re going to see a white person in a tree.)